Well, i started this post looking for a funny cycling picture to add some humor to my rather bland story of an incident related to an earlier post. Of course, in finding this i was compelled to share this golden nugget with my brethren of the blog. this one’s for you guys. stoney, no stall ones up in the heezy.

unrelated to this post’s purpose i wanted to relate my cyclist story. so, i’m flying around town as everyone knows i do, (especially suit– i know how you hate me in the driver’s seat when i’m not stoney baloney) and i see a cyclist coming onto the busy mountain road i’m cruising up. i anticipated his upcoming disregard for traffic law because of the previous story about dumbass cyclists. he runs the stop sign turning in front of me to maintain his speed to get up the hill. now, of course i was all but prepared by my defensive agressive new jersey fuck you driving skills (my only weaknesses being looking out the window and looking at the people i’m talking to) and i yelled “that’s a stop sign” out the window at 45 in a 35. when reached the top of the hill i decided it prudent to pull over and try and reason with this american flag jersied cyclist. hoping to fulfill my duties as a good american, objectors note t. j. our great hypocritical alumnus’ quote, “dissent is the highest form of patriotism, i waited for him.

tj: oh yeah, he liked pure chocolate. he bought as much as he could

surprisingly he reached me fairly quickly and pulled right to the side of my car, hand on my roof. he looks at me and i say, “you know there was a stop sign back there, right? you could have gotten killed out here.” in a wanker english accent, defiling our constitution by wearing the flag as a garment, he responded, “you’re right.” well, as i was about to say something to the effect of “it’s a little different in the states” or something selectively patriotic to the tune of love it or leave it, he interupted with a rude good bye. well, that was the end of the encounter, i almost got a flat pulling to the side of the road to wait for him, but i thought of the irony of the situation in checking the wheels. obviously a good cyclist judging on the speed he took the hill, you would figure he would first, know the rules, second, enjoy the hill climb, and third and finally, not be so gay. i guess i think it’s nice he is representing lady liberty, but nonetheless it’s pretty gay. if he truly analyzed the importance of old glory and the time it was made, as well as refined, he would know that his motherland represents everything we fought against. however, rather ironically, it now represents that which americans fought so hard to rebel against. i guess it all comes down to how gay the age of the nation state has become and always was. if we want to be realistic about it, it all comes down man as beast (ahh, my favorite topic)

while visiting the extremely gay d.c. infected nova, i found a first year secondary school paper documenting a school required event that was possibly sponsored nationally. it was called random acts of kindness week. now, far superior to tv turn-off week, i found great joy in reminiscing as well as disgust in the requiring of such week. while waiting to pick up my buddyon his last day i began talking about high school life at my school with some lady and a beautiful dog panting in his huge coat not made for any climate like ours. She put it clearly in saying, “it’s so different here from virginia. it’s like the cool kids are mean. if you’re nice you’re weird”. in the land of the almighty dollar and the bottom line, as opposed to the equally bad image obsessed west coast, their is no time for southern hospitality because you interfere with making another buck. ever notice when you ask, “how ya doin’ “, people don’t know what to say. they have so long heard it used as a statement rather than a question that it shocks them, stuttering out a response after you wait seconds for one. anyway, this post did not go in any direction i intended, but i am resolved to invite my fellow brothers of the cough to participate in random acts of kindness. in now way am i suggesting you do not already act in kindness , but i hope you will join me in spreading love at your most busy and difficult time.

if you don’t well, that’s your bag baby, but i hope you will join me in search of self-improvement.

on another totally unrelated side note, stoney, i was reminiscing with roughty about blasting the curveball you tried to sneak by me at the monticello fields. what a cowinky dink– monticello–sweet.

and, i’m slumping in the drunken firemen’s softball league of champions at a dissapointing .667, but i’ve been shagging plenty out in the cornfields and ripped my first inside the park homerun of the year though it’s in question by my harshest critic– good ol’ i me mine. i would mark it as excellent base-running and terrible rag arms though it’s in the book as a giddyup.

that’s for you, suit. that’s my boy, a buffalo soldier. though he plays nothing like me, i enjoy his love of the game and hatred for the business. that’s why he takes as much money as he knows they’ll give him and jogs to first base. all while working on his hitting more than any player in the majors. plus, you know he smokes the pot. sweet.

Editors note: an act of kindness could be removing the objectifying pic at the top, but in the passage of time (seems 70’s-80’s) this violated lady might revel in her beauty and youth. in addition, anonymity is on her side. the backside, oh snap!

2nd Editors note: (other driving weaknesses include, but are not limited too: lighting cigs, talking on the phone, rolling blunts, rolling joints, bouncing a tennis ball against the windshield when bored, searching through my ipod, the combination of up to three of these at a time, improper maintenance as evidenced by the baloney skin i’ve been driving around on for months, and hands at 12 and deez.

In Venice, there is a large population of bicyclists, who are mostly middle-age rich whities, wearing their new spandex bright green and black outfits, with a cool new helmet and shit. There are also the beach cruisers, no gears, fat tires.

A common rule of thumb that I grew up learning and living, was that bikers, by law, have to follow the same rules that motorists do. If there is a stop sign, you have to stop. If there is a red light, you have to stop. It’s pretty simple, if you think about it. If other cars have the green light to go, as a biker, you should stop at your stop sign or red light, because the other cars have the right of way, and you shouldn’t put yourself at risk and bank on someone stopping during their green light.

In Venice, however, fucking moron yuppies just don’t get it. They think that because they are on a bike, that they have an automatic green light and right of way, in any situation.

This happens ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I pull up to a stop sign on a 4-way stop. Every car is stopped, and taking their turn. Then, out of nowhere, a bicyclist comes racing down the hill, and blasts through the stop sign, with complete disregard to everyone else. I have literally been crossing the street, when it’s my turn, only to have a bitch boy on a bike come out right in front of me, having blown through his stop sign.

“My helmet will protect me!!!”

Fucking idiot.

If and when I hit one of these morons who disregards the law, I will get out of the car and take his picture of him lying on the cement, next to his twisted bike, and laugh in his face.

Yuppie bikers, and self-righteous beach cruising bitches, guess what? I live here too, and I don’t give a fuck. When I first moved to Venice, I almost hit someone who did that. I yelled at him, and he acted like he was going to beat me up or something. Motherfucker, who the fuck do you think you are? Lady T was like “Calm down, blabla” but fuck that bullshit. Fucking bikers who disregard the stop sign, or TURN LEFT FROM THE RIGHT LANE, I am going to run over one of you fucks eventually, and it will be all your fault.

Consider yourself warned, all gay-fuck-shit ass bikers and beach cruisers. If you don’t value your own life and safety, then I guarantee I won’t either. I will probably feel bad for a little bit, like when the cops come and write the report, that your idiot ass ran the red light, and gave me absolutely no option but to run your shit over. But after the initial adrenalin rush is over, I will probably feel comfortable knowing that one idiot learned his lesson, and that if you are on a bike, you better fucking stop at the stop sign.